


Step lightly (on my heart)

by VarricTitsrass



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: AU, M/M, Pining, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, is it truly a snufmin fic without?, snufkin is oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarricTitsrass/pseuds/VarricTitsrass
Summary: He opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust once more to the mountain trail by fire-light. His lips tug upwards into a pleased smile.Spring is coming.He reaches into his pocket and strokes his mouth organ with a slightly chilly paw. He pulls it out gently and lifts it to the sky watching it glitter in the starlight. For all of winter it has lain silent with no tune to wake it. Snufkin is sure it is just as excited as he, for the first tune of spring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experiment of sorts! SO I'm not 100% on where its going

The stars hang low in the sky when Winter begins to unclench it’s icy fist, giving way to the first signs of spring. Above his head, the trees sway hesitantly. The wind strums clumsy chords in the boughs, looking for the right sounds to encourage new life to the surface. Not a moment ago it seems, all life lay silent with most sensible creatures laying still in hibernation. 

Spring is coming. He can taste it in the air.

Crowded up to his softly smouldering campfire, Snufkin lets his eyelids fall shut, taking in a deep breath. Beneath the frozen earth he can hear the Underneath Creatures coming awake in their troves. They will be the first to breach the silence of winter and greet the spring in this turning of seasons. And then it will be the plants, and the flowers. The leaves in the trees and the grass on the ground.

Spring is, without a doubt, his favourite season. And, perhaps he is biased but how could it not be? Bursting with life and warmth and the promise of  _ new things _ , how could he possibly be expected to  _ not _ love it with every desperate fibre of his being?

He opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust once more to the mountain trail by fire-light. His lips tug upwards into a pleased smile.

Spring is  _ coming. _

He reaches into his pocket and strokes his mouth organ with a slightly chilly paw. He pulls it out gently and lifts it to the sky watching it glitter in the starlight. For all of winter it has lain silent with no tune to wake it. Snufkin is sure it is just as excited as he, for the first tune of spring. 

-

The slow amble to MoominValley is a trip Snufkin always enjoys. With each springy step forwards, the trees - bursting with newly grown buds - sway merrily in greeting. The flowers at his feet hum softly, gossiping to one another as flowers are want to do. Newly hatched bugs zip back and forth, nattering and chattering as they collect and scatter pollen, extending springs gentle reach even further. 

Snufkin delights in these early days when Spring begins to brush back Winter’s veil. It feels much like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders. it isn’t as if he doesn’t enjoy winter. It is enchanting in it’s own way, with it’s hordes of invisible, forgotten creatures. 

Winter is the season of things that go bump in the night. It is exciting and breathtaking and dangerous. But this simply makes him all the more grateful for Spring when it arrives. 

The Spring is much like coming home, he thinks. 

As the buds turn to leaves and the distance from MoominValley turns from weeks to days, Snufkin starts keeping his mouth organ close at hand. 

Spring is struggling this year, he realises with a mixture of amusement and concern. He hears it from the Birch Trees, terrible gossip that they are and truly, no help at all when it comes to the forming of a new tune. Much too self-absorbed. 

They tell him that the wind is being too harsh in it’s caresses for the Oak’s to whistle a soft melody. They tell him that the chill of winter is still deep within the earth and that many of the small creatures - the squirrels, the rabbits - are still in hibernation and thus can’t provide a gnawing of teeth or a thumping of feet. 

Even many of the hives lay dormant, with their swarms silent with in rendering their steady, buzzing bass silent as well.

Snufkin isn’t too worried. Spring has struggled to find it’s tune before, but in the end it always finds it. 

In no time at all he’ll be spreading spreading Spring’s song for all to hear. 

-

His concern grows the closer he gets to Moomin Valley. He has pitched his tent in the wood, not far off from the path that leads directly to the Moomin’s house and still, Spring isn’t ready. 

He feels a burst of anxiety in his chest at the thought. How can he greet Moomintroll when Spring isn’t ready? How can he fish with his dear friend when the fish aren’t singing as they should be? When the wind’s aren’t blowing as they ought to be? 

And oh. Moomintroll will be ever so disappointed. Snufkin has seen the way his friend’s eyes light up at the sight of him playing his mouth organ. How can he expect him to still be so pleased when Snufkin approaches silently?

Maybe he wont appear to greet Snufkin at all?

Having thoroughly worked himself up, Snufkin jabs his campfire balefully with a stick. It crackles and snaps at him angrily and he feels just a little vindicated. A daisy at his feet sways curiously and he sighs. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.” Flowers don’t much care for the problems of Mybles and Moomins. They tolerate Hemulens, certainly, the one in Moomin Valley is begrudgingly beloved, but flowers don’t have the time for such concerns as friendship.

It shivers indignantly and Snufkin smothers a smile, reaching down to poke at its pistil gently. 

“Truly. It’s nothing too interesting anyway. I’m sure that the worms have far more interesting tales that mine.”

It sways and Snufkin rests his chin on his paw. “You see, I’m rather concerned about the Spring Tune. It’s quite late, as i’m sure you know.”

It’s laughter is like the tinkling of very, very small bells and Snufkin is reminded of why daisy’s are one of his favourite flowers. 

“Indeed. Though I’m sure the Wind cant be  _ all  _ to blame. I’m just not entirely sure what I shall do with myself, if I cannot play Our Tune.”

If Daisies had eyes, this one’s would be rolling.

“Well,” He says. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

And he knows it’s true. He  _ is _ overreacting. In some places the ground still harbours frost like a stubborn stain you can’t quite get rid of. Truly, Spring isn’t even that late. But it doesn’t change the fact that in a few days time he will be greeted by Moomintroll and he will have no tune to offer him. 

A bee bumbles past, humming out a greeting to Snufkin and landing on the Daisy with a soft, barely audible thwump. 

He smiles again and pulls away, searching the heat of the fire for the answer to a question he doesn’t remember asking. 

His conversation with the young flower has left him feeling a strange mixture of relieved and desperately uncertain. He makes sure his camp fire is secure and clambers into his tent.

All will be clearer in the morning’s light.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moomin awakes from hibernation early to pine for a few months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Moomin a little harder to write, but here he is.

Moomintroll realises that he is hopelessly in love with Snufkin on a cold winter's day. There are a few birds singing, strange and wonderful creatures like none he’s ever seen before. Smaller and daintier that what he is used to in the warmer months but undeniably tougher. 

He has woken early from his hibernation again this year. Moominmamma and Moominpappa still lay comfortable and cozy under their bedsheets. Even Little My has remained asleep, hidden at home and away from the biting cold of Winter.

Moomintroll has been spending his time with Tooticky. They cook together in the evening and Tooticky tells Moomin of winter creatures that thrive under the cold light of the Winter Sun, of the invisible shrews and other miscellaneous small things that scurry underfoot as they talk. 

The thing about being awake when one really ought to be hibernating - Moomintroll thinks - is that it leaves an awful lot of time for thinking. Thinking and wondering and worrying. And missing things. Someones in fact. Well, a certain someone.

Moomintroll - mind buzzing with thoughts of green hats and warm, honey eyes - suddenly finds himself rather despondent. Walking backwards through the snow covered fields, watching as his feet leave imprints in the freshly laid snow, he wonders what Snufkin is doing right now. 

Does he miss Moomintroll with as much longing as Moomin misses him? Or - as is far more likely - perhaps his dear friend is having some grand adventure that leaves no space in his thoughts for his much less exciting friend in Moominvalley.

And well, the thing is, Moomintroll has always rather expected falling in love to be something momentous. For his heart to suddenly start racing in his chest and for his heart to sing in some divine realisation. Snorkmaiden has always described it as an event that would change his entire outlook on life itself.

It reality it's far less dramatic.

In one moment he is breathing in the bitter cold air of winter and the next his lungs are full with an overwhelming love for his dear, Snufkin.

Oh. He thinks. I’m in love. 

And well, thats it isn't it? Moomintroll can’t really imagine it being any other way. It’s simply that, If Snufkin exists then - naturally - Moomintroll will have no choice but to love him.

With an ‘oof’ he tumbles backwards, fall blanketed by thick sheets of snow. He lays there for a moment and wonders how he possibly could have missed it. Every interaction with Snufkin now seems to glow with a softer coloured light in his mind. Each thought of his friend is like sunlight through the window in the early morning.   
He thinks of Snufkin and his small, mischievous grin whenever there is a plot afoot. Or the smug glint he had carried in his eye after tearing up all of the park keepers signs and setting then alight, viciously. 

Moomintroll - now smiling rather manically himself - presses his paws to his cheeks.

How terribly foolish he has been.

-

Tooticky takes one look at him and raises an exasperated eyebrow, brushing several shrews off her lap. “Now, Moomin. I’m sure I told you to wear your scarf at the very least this morning.”

Moomintroll grins. “You did!”

She blinks up at him, forehead creasing slightly. “Have you taken ill?”

“Certainly not!” He says, settling down by the fire. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that it is a campfire. “Rather… rather I’m quite certain I’m in love.”

Tooticky nods. “Well, of course you are dear. But that's no excuse to be reckless in Winter.” She fusses about in her chest for a second or too, before surfacing with a knitted jumper. “Here we are. This ought to be your size.” 

Feeling rather silly, he pulls the jumper over his head. It’s a little snug, but he’s much warmer. “You knew?” 

Tooticky laughs gently and pats him on the head. “Oh, Moomintroll. I’d feel silly if I didn’t.”

That doesn’t make much sense to him and he says as much.

“Well,” She says, pulling out her knitting needles with a practiced hand. “I’m quite a bit older than you are and I’ve had my fair share of loves. I like to think I know what it looks like these days.”

“Oh.” He says. “Are you in love, Tooticky?” 

She smiles softly. “That sounds like a question for warmer weather. Would you fetch me some firewood? I’ll start dinner soon.”

Undeniably curious, but not willing to push his luck, Moomintroll climbs to his feet. “Okay. Could you tell more tales of the Undercreatures tonight.”

“Of course I can. Though perhaps you should ask your Snufkin when he returns. His tales should interest you more than mine.” 

His cheeks warm at the teasing tone in her voice and he pulls the door open. “I’ll be back in a minute!”

The door slams shut and he leans against it, his heart warm in his chest. 

His Snufkin?

Isn’t that a lovely thought?

-

The rest of winter passes without much incident and as the weather finally begins to warm up, Moomintroll finds himself even more anxious for Spring. 

You see, another thing he’s noticed this winter, is that when you aren’t hibernating time passes much slower. It turns out that when you don't have sleep to chase away the cold and catapult you from the end of Autumn right in to the new year, Winter is a very long time. Especially when there is the new and strange realisation that you are in love with your best friend to consider. 

Moomin has found it hard enough in the previous years, waiting for Snufkin to return to the Valley. But now, the waiting is almost impossible. He has taken to pacing up and down the path Snufkin normally takes, over and over, as if just by doing so he may be able to summon the other here. Without noticing, he even finds himself humming Snufkin's song from last year under his breath.

How has he ever waited this long before?

Surely he won't make it until Spring? 

Face twisted into an expression Moominmamma would probably call a pout, Moomin drops into a crouch. Surely the weeks are passing too slowly? Perhaps some awful snow creature, like the ones in Snufkin’s stories, has taken a hold of the world in one huge, giant hand and frozen it. So not only have things stopped growing but the world has stopped turning too! 

A flash of colour catches his eye and Moomintroll blinks back into focus. Through soft beads of snow a small flower has burrowed its way to the surface. Soft pink petals that look far to delicate to be alive in such harsh weather, sway cheerily in the breeze.

If Snufkin were here, he would reach out and stroke it, but Moomintroll is far to fearful it might break. Snufkin would speak to it too. He closes his eyes and imagines his best friend is beside him. He would rest his chin on his paw and ask gently how the flower’s morning has been so far and what to expect from the days ahead, leaving a little silence for the flowers response. Moomintroll had spoken into that silence once and Snufkin had been ever so upset at his rudeness.

Moomin found it endearing, that Snufkin spoke to nature as though it may actually speak back.

Drip…. Drop… Drip… Drop…

His ears perk up and he gasps, spinning quickly to face the bridge above the little frozen stream to his house. The ice has begun to melt properly! 

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in victory. “Yes!” 

Finally! Spring is finally coming!

He can’t wait!

-

He wakes Moominmamma up with a joyful shout, thundering up the stairs as if he has an angry My at his heels. “Mamma!”

She catches him with a groggy smile, laughing as they spin. “Good morning my dear.” 

“Good morning Mamma, Oh I have so much to tell you!”

She pats his cheek and he can’t quite help but nuzzle into it. Weeks without touch catching up with him. “That’s wonderful, dear. Why don't you wake Pappa up, I’ll make breakfast.”

Pappa is pulling on his hat when Moomin greets him. He reaches down to pat Moomin on the head. “Good morning son.” He squints out the window. “And what a fine morning it is. I’ve missed the sun.” 

Moomin rushes for the window, pressing his nose against it hopefully. Moominpappa chuckles. “Well, I think it’s a little early for that. Come down for breakfast.”

He’s right of course, Moomin thinks, rubbing his snout sheepishly. Snufkin will only arrive precisely when he wants to. That doesn’t stop him from hoping though. With one last glance out the window, he hurries to meet Mamma downstairs. 

He tells them about his winter. They don’t look too concerned this year, that he hasn’t hibernated, but they do exchange one of those looks that pass a message he doesn't quite understand. The one that says they know something that he doesn’t and they have no intention of telling him what that something is. “Mamma?”

She smiles and spreads a little jam on her toast. “Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. You were telling us about the under creatures.” 

“Oh yes! Tootickey was telling me about them! She said I should talk to Snufkin about them as well though, you don’t think he’d mind do you?” 

Moominmamma smiles and Moomintroll thinks he might see a bit of amusement in her eyes. “I should think not dear. He enjoys telling you stories.”

Moominpappa makes a stilted sound that he thinks might be a laugh. He narrows his eyes but his pappa is hidden safely behind the newspaper in his paws. “Quite right. I’m sure he’ll enjoy your tales as much as you enjoy his, son.”

If Moomintroll’s cheeks heat up at that, or his tail curls up bashfully beneath his chair, it’s no ones business but his own.

-

After breakfast, when they are all packed up and Moomintroll is all out of stories, his Mamma presses a small lunchbox into his paws. “Now don’t stay out too late dear.”

He doesn’t hear her, already halfway out the door. “See you later!”

Spring is coming, and that only means one thing to Moomintroll.

Snufkin is almost here.


End file.
